


In the Sun

by goddessofcruelty



Series: Wine and Song [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Exhibitionism, F/F, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Lots of off-screen minor character death, Masturbation, Minor Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Minor Lydia Martin/Jackson Whittemore, Oral Sex, Voyeurism, War Brides, everyone is human
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-05
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2018-01-18 07:18:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1419394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddessofcruelty/pseuds/goddessofcruelty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia was sitting silently, tears streaming down her pale cheeks as Jackson knelt before her, speaking softly. Allison was a soldier's daughter and had a stiffer spine about the whole thing, simply holding onto Scott's hand like he would vanish at any minute.</p><p>-</p><p>Civil War Era AU. Lydia and Allison are left behind when Jackson and Scott go off to war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Allison Argent/Lydia Martin, first time together.

“You should marry Stiles. He's had his cap set for you since before I met Scott.” Lydia sucked in her breath and held it as Allison tugged the laces tightly and then secured them.

“Then we could marry best friends,” Allison continued.

Lydia let out her breath when Allison got the last knot tied and rolled her eyes before seating herself at her vanity to catch her breath.

“First, I do not love Stiles. I love Jackson Whittemore.” Lydia leaned forward and began dabbing her cheeks with rouge.

“Second, even if Stiles had money, which he doesn't, my father would never let me marry a Westerner. Jackson is from a good Eastern family, and he's studying law. He will follow his father into office, I am certain.” She nodded once and then turned to Allison.

“Third, I'm not particularly interested in being a teacher's wife. A Senator's wife will do me just fine. Besides, I can't just marry anyone like you can dear. I have my family's reputation to uphold.”

Allison sighed before turning to grab the bed frame firmly. “I know, it's just, I'm going to miss you so.”

Lydia pulled the corset's laces tightly, securing them for her best friend. “Well, we mayn't have to part just yet. Father thinks there's going to be war. All of our boys will be going off then.”

Allison leaned against the frame until she could breathe again and then chewed on her lower lip nervously. “I do hope not. I cannot bear the thought of something happening to any of them.”

Lydia slid her arms around Allison's now slimmer waist and pulled her close for a few sweet kisses. “There, there, darling. You will always have me, and we will pray for their safety every night together if it comes to that.”

Stepping back, Lydia looked her beloved friend over. “Now, we must be at our utmost for this ball, for if it is their last, we will make it shine for our boys. And I will even save a place on my card for Stiles, just for you.”

Allison flashed a smile and then turned to the gowns laid out on the bed. “Hm, which do you think?”

“Let's have you in the salmon, and I will go with mint. We will be in darker shades soon enough.”

-

Lydia's father had been right, all the young men talking of nothing but the impending war, and Lydia was bored of it all. Even Stiles had shrugged off a dance with her for a heated discussion on tactics through the western hills.

Lydia was still bemoaning the dullness when they returned to the suite they shared at their finishing school.

“Even when escorting us home, they spoke of it! Jackson didn't even notice my new hair combs.”

“C'mon, sweetling, don't pout so,” Allison coaxed as she helped pull the pins from Lydia's strawberry blonde curls. “Even the wonders of Lydia Martin cannot compare to a war.”

“Oh, not you as well. Though with your archery and falconry, you're at least more martial than Stiles and his books.”

“Stiles will serve his country when it calls,” Allison said loyally, as she deftly unfastened the myriad rows of tiny hooks along the backside of Lydia's gown.

“Oh, Allison,” Lydia said softly and looked at her in the mirror. “You're such a darling bright ray of sunshine.”

Allison smiled, showing off her dimples. “And you are my dearest moonbeam.” She pressed a kiss to the top of her best friend's head and helped her step from the yards of silk and lace.

“Come now, help me from mine, and we can catch a quick nap before needing to begin the evening's studying.”

Lydia smirked and reached for Allison, pulling the other girl's front to hers as her arms came around and started unfastening the brunette's dress blindly. “Napping wasn't what I had in mind.”

Allison grinned and caught Lydia's lips in a kiss, before stepping from her dress and pulling her, so that they tumbled into their bed together.

-

They'd been special friends from the start, something that was quite common among girls their age. Many girls in boarding schools paired off this way, sharing beds as well as secrets and clothing.

Lydia's old roommate had left the school, and Allison, as the new girl, had been assigned to the open room. Allison had been warned about Miss Martin being difficult to deal with, but she had not found it so, even from the beginning.

Lydia was smart and beautiful and brave of spirit. Allison admired her greatly. On her part, Lydia appreciated Allison's loving heart and gentle soul. They were inseparable from then on. They had their spats, of course, all such bosom buddies did, but they were never serious or lasting.

And when graduation time had come, they had moved on to finishing school together.

They'd never had any doubt, though finances were briefly a hurdle. Allison's father was out West with the Cavalry, fighting Indians and his compensation was received on a schedule erratic at best. Allison had overcome her difficulties by offering her services as a language tutor.

Lydia admired her fluency with myriad tongues. She was no slouch in the language department, however her forte was more written translation, whereas Allison spoke everything like a native.

Lydia had chosen their school, one in New York that she could be near to her betrothed. Jackson would be attending West Point.

-

They had met Stiles the night he'd come right up to Lydia and asked her to dance at a West Point sponsored ball. Lydia had been so affronted and appalled at being treated like a common street-girl, that she had been unable to respond.

Allison, bless her, had kept her head and smiled in that sweet way of hers, eyes cast modestly downward. She mildly suggested that if the gentleman wished for introductions, he should request one such from a Mr. Jackson Whittemore, and then swept Lydia away before she could loose her rather famous temper.

As they were leaving, Allison heard the young man complain to his companion, who shushed him. “You knew they'd have all kinds of fancy ways out here, Stiles.” Allison had briefly lifted her eyes to catch a glimpse of the speaker and found a pair of warm brown eyes watching her in return.

In fact, it was that young man who had requested introductions, on behalf of Allison. She could still recall the look on Stiles' face when Lydia had been introduced as Jackson's fiancee. It had gone from adoring to disbelieving to determined in as many seconds. He'd never really given up on Lydia.

Allison secretly thought it was kind of romantic, but it annoyed Lydia to no end. She'd listened to hours of diatribe on his coarse ways, and his frontierism, and his odd gifts. He once got Lydia a book on crop rotation farming. Another time it was a daguerreotype of himself.

Every time Lydia received something from him, she just handed it over to Allison, who mostly donated them out to charities. She had given the image to Scott and gently explained why it was not appropriate. He later told her that he had sent it home to Stiles' father.

Of course, all awkwardness had been gotten over eventually, and since Allison had the bad taste to fall in with Scott, and Stiles was part of the package, just as Danny was with Jackson, they'd all worked out their places and formed themselves into a clique. There had been sleighing parties and late night philosophy discussions, and wedding planning – first for Lydia and Jackson, and then later on for Allison and Scott.

-

And now their boys were going off to war.

Lydia was sitting silently, tears streaming down her pale cheeks as Jackson knelt before her, speaking softly. Allison was a soldier's daughter and had a stiffer spine about the whole thing, simply holding onto Scott's hand like he would vanish at any minute.

Scott nods towards Lydia. “Go and comfort your Miss Martin. Jackson and I need to speak with Mr. Martin.”

Allison settled down and pulled Lydia to her, smoothing her hair and shushing her gently.

By the time the men had returned, Lydia was composed once more, fingers firmly tangled with Allison's.

Jackson glanced to Lydia's father before kneeling before where she was seated. “We've been betrothed for a very long time and though I know it's not the wedding that you had planned, I'd like the honor of calling you my wife before I must go to war.”

Lydia studies him a moment and then nods. “However once you have returned, we will have our brilliant and beautiful ceremony. I won't have my hope chest wasted.” Jackson smiles and reaches for her hand.

Scott is speaking softly to Allison in the window seat. “We don't have the history they have, and I don't have the pretty manners, but I've never been more sure of anything in my life. Allison, will you be my wife?”

She agrees, and so the boys leave to make arrangements, and the girls send out a flurry of cards to their friends.

-

Within the week, they are married women. They get three nights with their husbands before they send them off to war.

Together, they move into Lydia's family home in Massachusetts. It's just the two of them, Lydia's parents have gone overseas.

That first night, they settle on Lydia's bed to talk about married life.

“Mostly it hurt, and then it was uncomfortable, and then it was boring.” Lydia was brushing out her hair while Allison made notes in a text.

Allison glanced up at her. “Really? I liked it. Well, all but the mess.”

Lydia wrinkled her nose and nodded in agreement. Allison chewed on her lower lip and then lifted her eyes to Lydia blushing faintly. “So, what did you and Jackson do, exactly?”

Lydia tilted her head with a frown. “Do? He put...it...in and moved for a bit and then when he was done, he grunted and made a mess inside me.”

Allison arched her brow. “That's it? You didn't talk or kiss or...or...other things?”

Lydia set her hairbrush down. “We kissed a bit in the beginning, and he put his hands on my bosoms. But it wasn't gentle like you do it, and it hurt. I have some bruises still. There was no talking.” Lydia seemed scandalized. “Why would we _talk_ during that?”

Allison shrugged a shoulder and looked down a bit shyly. “Scott and I talked and lay in each other's arms for a long time. And he kissed me. A lot. Everywhere. I took him into my mouth, and he used his mouth and fingers on me first before he put it inside. It never once hurt.”

Lydia's eyes are narrowed and she seems to make a decision. She stands and shucks out of her shift. “Show me right now, the things he did to make it nice.”

Allison pulled back a bit. “Are you sure, Lyds? I mean, we're married women now...”

Lydia lay down on the bed and just _looked_ at Allison.

The brunette joined her after a moment. 

-

Allison started by kissing Lydia softly, and then pressed her tongue between the other's soft lips. After a moment of hesitation, Lydia's tongue twined with hers. Lydia took a deep breath when they at last parted. “No, Jackson has never kissed me like that.”

Allison smiled and kissed along Lydia's jawline and then nibbled at her ear, before kissing softly and tenderly down her neck. She bit gently at the crook of Lydia's neck, which caused a strange feeling that went right down her body, and Lydia gasped with an “Oh!” that made Allison giggle.

Lydia pouted slightly until Allison brought her kisses down to Lydia's chest and took one of the tight pink nipples into her mouth. “Oh goodness, Allison,” Lydia whispered as the dark haired girl began to suckle at it, then scraped her teeth lightly on the pink nub. Allison gave the same treatment to the other side, and then kissed her way down Lydia's gentle curves until reaching her mound.

She ran her fingers lightly through the red-gold curls there and then pulled them apart softly to explore Lydia gently with her fingers, a little less clear on this part. She had been on the receiving end, and by this point, not paying all that much attention to particulars.

Tentatively, Allison extended her tongue, licking along the parting of flesh. Letting the musky taste settle on her tongue a moment, she then swiped her tongue along Lydia's slit, harder this time. Lydia squeaked above her and Allison lifted her eyes up to see Lydia's face flushed and her head thrown back into the pillows.

Allison considered that she must be doing this right, and uses her fingers to pull apart the folds, curiously eying a little bundle of skin above where she was licking, and then laved her tongue along it. Lydia reacted with a jerk and a squeal. “Oh Allison, do that again.”

The brunette did so, a few times, grinning slightly at Lydia's panting. “I'm certain I did not have such an extreme reaction.”

Lydia lifted her head to glare downwards. “Do the other thing then. With the fingers.” Her voice was breathy.

Allison gently slid a finger into Lydia, after a moment of searching. It slid in easily, Lydia's hole slick and wet. Scott had used two, so she copied that, adding another and then moving them the way he had.

Lydia was quiet and Allison looked worriedly up at her. She was propped up on her elbows watching Allison. “That doesn't hurt like it did with Jackson, but I liked the other thing better.”

Allison slid her fingers from Lydia and touched that tiny nub with her slippery fingers. Lydia moaned and lay back down. “Yes, definitely. Keep doing that.”

“Wait, I have an idea.” Allison climbed up onto the bed beside Lydia and rested her arm across Lydia's stomach, rubbing that bundle of nerves from a new direction. Then she took Lydia's nipple into her mouth.

Lydia squirmed and started to make whimpering noises, so Allison pulled back, but Lydia shook her head. “No, Allison, please continue.”

So she did. Allison kept going until Lydia's body started shuddering and then she cried out Allison's name loudly and arched. Fluid trickled from between her legs and Allison pulled her lips and fingers away, amazed.

“That definitely didn't happen with me and Scott.” Her eyes were as wide as Lydia's. Lydia smiled sweetly.

“Give me some time to catch my breath and I'll see if I can duplicate your efforts, darling.”


	2. Chapter 2

Lydia and Allison spend their days doing all they can to support their husbands.

They put together care packages and write letters to all four of them. Their boys have been split up, Stiles and Scott off to the 24th Michigan, while Jackson and Danny are with the First Massachusetts Cavalry.

Lydia procures a map of the United States, and they read every battle account avidly, and keep track of the movements with tacks. Lydia becomes somewhat obsessed with tactics and begins to study the books Jackson has left behind.

Allison is subjected to rants about the Union generals and their bad strategies weeks after the battles have happened. Allison distracts herself by admiring the way Lydia's eyes snap with fire when she gets agitated, the way she gesticulates wildly at the map, the way she gets ink smudges on her cheeks when she forgets herself in a text.

The nights are for them. They lay together in bed, sometimes in their shifts, sometimes in nothing at all. They learn each other's bodies, learn their similarities and differences.

Lydia likes to tell Allison what to do, and to lay back and have the brunette use her tongue to bring her to climax. Allison likes to be held down with Lydia's fingers working her, and the redhead's teeth worrying at her skin. They both like lying in each other's arms, talking and kissing for hours.

They talk about places they might go when all this is over, of places they'd like to travel, and sights they'd like to see. Allison wants to see Paris and Geneva. Lydia thinks Rome and Venice. They argue back and forth about the cultural merits of their respective choices.

Allison continues with her hawking and archery, and Lydia accompanies her as a companion to her lessons. Lydia extends her equestrian exploits into show jumping. Allison doesn't breathe the whole time she's flying over obstacles at breakneck speed.

-

There comes a day when their idyll is broken.

The interruption comes in the form of Allison's aunt Kate. She shows up on their doorstep with barely any luggage, heavily pregnant. Her clothes are threadbare and she is unwashed.

Allison ushers her in and has a servant draw a bath. Another is dispatched for some light refreshments. Once Kate is clean and fed, she begins to look moderately better.

Once Allison hears her story, she looks very pale. Allison settles her into one of the downstairs rooms. She cannot move her into proper guest quarters without Lydia's permission.

Allison has a feeling she won't be getting it.

-

“You barely know her!” Lydia is shouting at Allison.

The brunette winces and reaches for Lydia's hand. “What should I have done, Lyds? Turned her away at the door? She's my _family_.”

“She's destitute, _divorced_ , and carrying the child of an Indian!” Lydia's voice wavers between scorn and horror. “She's been a woman alone for months in the West.” She is pacing and waving her arms. “It's fortunate my parents are not here.”

Allison is quiet a moment. “She stays or I go.”

With that, the fight is over.

-

Lydia insists that she be kept hidden away in the servant's quarters, and Allison agrees to find other family who can take her in after the baby is born. Kate barely gets out of bed.

She becomes ill shortly before the baby is due, and Allison forgoes her outings with Lydia to nurse for her. Kate raves about evil and monsters and such in her delirium and Allison worries that her travails have broken her mind.

Lydia comes home from her competition, very pale and hands Allison a paper. The fort that her father had been serving at was overrun by Indians. _No survivors._

Allison sits heavily and reads the article over. It is short on facts, but the essential point is clear. She is now fatherless. She gives herself a moment to absorb the loss, then returns to her duties tending Kate.

She breaks the news as gently as she can to her aunt, and then cries herself to sleep in Lydia's arms that night. Lydia strokes her hands through the dark locks and wishes she could take the pain away.

-

Its a week later when the baby decides it's time. Kate is in labour for two days before her son is born. She lives long enough to name his Christopher Isaac, and then bleeds the rest of her life out on the servant's cot.

Lydia refuses to have anything to do with the baby.

It is left to Allison to hire a nurse for him. The only family she has left, her grandfather, refuses to have a “mongrel” in his household. All she has of the father is his name, which gets her nowhere.

When she comes into her money, now that her father is declared dead, Allison takes the baby and leaves Lydia. There's tears but no recriminations. Lydia simply cannot jeopardize her standing, and Allison wont give up the last of her family to an orphanage.

-

They still spend days with their charity work and sporting competitions, but their nights are apart, cold and lonely.

Lydia meets Elizabeth Cady Stanton and becomes a campaigner for Women's Rights.

Allison focuses on little Chris.

-

It has been two weeks since she's seen Lydia, when the reports about the horrific battle at Gettysburg begin trickling in.

They find each other in the telegraph office, along with several others from town to listen as the operator read the latest dispatches.

It becomes a roll of the dead and the operator breaks down. Lydia steps forward and takes over, learning the code on the fly and reads the names for hours. She only halts for a moment when her own husband's name flashes before her.

When Lydia can speak no more, the operator takes over and Allison takes her home. She has the maid bring warm tea for the redhead's voice.

Allison holds Lydia while she cries.

Then she tucks her friend into bed and goes home to her little boy.

-

A week later Lydia calls on her. This is the first time she's been to Allison's home.

Chris is playing with blocks in the sitting room.

Lydia studies him while she waits for Allison to return with refreshments. He looks up at her, sun-kissed curls framing a heart-shaped face with peridot-green eyes. She won't admit that he's utterly adorable.

She ignores him fro then on, nodding her thanks to Allison and nibbles at a cake and they exchange pleasantries somewhat awkwardly until Lydia at last comes around to the reason for her call.

“I brought the account of the battle to read...like we once did. I thought...” Lydia shrugs a shoulder, she has difficulty expressing exactly what brought her here.

Allison hesitates and then rests her hand atop Lydia's gloved one. “Let me just settle the boy for a nap, and then, yes I'd like that.”

-

Allison eventually gets a letter from Scott. He's been injured, he doesn't say how bad it is. He tells her that Stiles took over command and roused them to stand their ground. He says that he heard about Jackson and wishes her to express his condolences to the family.

Allison leaves Chris with his nanny and takes the letter to Lydia. She has had one from Danny. They swap and curl up together on the sofa to read. Danny tells of Jackson's heroics, and of how he was hurt. He mentions one Lieutenant Parrish who tried to help Jackson after he'd been shot.

When they are done reading, Lydia carefully refolds the letters and puts hers on the mantle next to their wedding daguerreotype, and Jackson's certificate of commission.

She sits next to Allison with a soft sigh. “I didn't feel like a different person when I became a married woman, and I do not feel any different as a widow.”

Allison just wraps her arms around her best friend and holds her a while.

-

Allison spends the night.

Before she leaves in the morning, Lydia asks her to move back in.

Along with Chris.

-

They join Lydia's household a fortnight later. Allison is apprehensive at first, but the boy takes a shine to Lydia, thought the woman remains somewhat distant with him.

She does teach him to read and do his sums. Lydia puts him on his first horse, and he takes to riding like he was born to it.

Allison buys him an archery set for Christmas that year. He's not as good at that.

Shortly after Christmas, Lydia receives a letter from Stiles. It's dated late July. He asks her to check in on Allison and to keep each other cheered as much as possible in their shared grief.

Lydia goes to the post and finds that Allison's letters have not been forwarded. She opens the telegram and sits down hard. Allison has been a widow nearly as long as she has.

She goes home and Allison can tell by her paleness that something is wrong. Lydia makes Allison sit and then hands her the letters, before taking the boy to the nursery to read quietly.

Allison screams and Lydia rushes to her side, rocking her through her hurricane of tears. When she is all cried out, Lydia has Cook make Allison's favourite lemon cakes and then makes her rest on the divan.

That is the last time Allison cries.

-

They continue to follow the war, Lydia fuming over stupid command decisions and agitating for women's suffrage. Allison mostly stays home, though she still does some charity work.

They are horrified at what Sherman does to Atlanta, though Lydia at least understands the theory behind it.

Allison receives a letter from a lawyer, again dated months ago, addressed to Kate. Chris' paternal family was killed by Sherman's march to the sea. His father's whereabouts were unknown, but there were some personal affects that have nowhere to go.

Allison sends a letter to the lawyer, explaining the situation as it stands. He sends her three crates of things for Chris. She has Lydia's servants put them in storage.

-

The end of the war comes too late for their husbands, but they celebrate anyways. Lydia hosts a glittering gathering, and Chris is allowed to stay up and peek at the elite of the East as they feast their hard won victory.

They are plunged back into mourning only a handful of days later as the news that their President has been killed rocks the North.

Lydia begins talking more seriously about leaving the country.

-

Lydia is out calling on other war widows when she comes across Stiles Stilinski.

“Well, if that isn't a sight for sore eyes, Miss Lydia Martin, as I live and breathe.”

Lydia shakes her head slightly. “You didn't learn manners on the battlefield, did you Stiles?”

She puts her hands on her hips and narrows her eyes at him, but there's no real rancor in it.

“That would be MRS. Whittemore, Mr. Stilinski, in broad daylight in the middle of the day.”

He grins and reaches for her hand to squeeze it once. Then his eyes get a bit sad and he goes serious a moment. “I was sorry to hear about Jackson. He had the makings of a good man deep down.”

Her lips quirk a bit. “He was a better man than you know, Stiles.”

“And how is Mrs. McCall?” His voice is soft now, eyes downcast. Lydia rests a hand on his arm.

“She's a very strong woman, and of course, she has little Christopher.”

Stiles's amber eyes widen in shock. “There's a child?”

“Not a McCall. An Argent.” Lydia links her arm with Stiles and tells him about the scandal in every salacious detail, but in a hushed tone. She doesn't exactly want to be overheard.

-

Stiles calls on them two days later and meets Chris. They love each other immediately. Lydia shakes her head at the two boys antics.

“You'd think he wasn't a grown man who'd been to war.”

Allison shushes her. “Perhaps he needs the escape.” Her eyes are soft and caring as she watches.

When Chris retires, Stiles tells the women the real reason for his visit.

He knows the boy's father.

-

With the help of Lydia's father-in-law, they do the paperwork. Allison cries and holds onto little Chris, feeling like she's losing the last of her family. They will be in town for a couple of months while Stiles tracks down Derek hale, but the boy will stay with Stiles from now on.

Allison knows that's what's best for him.

It still hurts.

-

She mopes for three days before Lydia decides to distract her.

That night, she reaches for Allison as they head towards their bedchamber. Lydia grasps her wrists and holds them above her head, pinning Allison against the closed door. She leans in and kisses Allison demandingly and thoroughly, until the brunette is gasping for breath and her eyes are glazed.

Then Lydia steps back and points to the bed. “Take off your clothing and lay on the bed.”

Allison shivers at the command in Lydia's voice and finds herself obeying. She slowly divests herself of her dress, a fluttering in her stomach at the way Lydia's eyes rake over her form.

Allison stretches out on the bed and looks at Lydia.

Lydia walks over to her naked lover, still fully clothed, and trails her gloved fingers lightly over the perfect skin. She touches Allison's long neck, trails her hand down the exposed collar bone, rubs thumb over peaked nipple. Lydia continues just lightly touching stroking her hand along Allison's flat abdomen, and then just lightly through the dark curls between her legs.

Turning away after that, Lydia slides the chair from the vanity over to the foot of the bed.

“Allison.”

Dark eyes flick to meet Lydia's.

“I want you to touch yourself. I want to watch you do to yourself all the things that I do.”

Allison sucks her lower lip into her mouth nervously, this feels somehow far more intimate than having Lydia's hands on her, but she haltingly reaches a hand to brush it across her breast.

“Keep looking at me,” Lydia demands.

Allison lifts her eyes to the woman watching her, still fully clothed, and parts her legs slightly, shifting her hips as she begins to feel her arousal. There's something about being on display thus that is sending sparks of fire through her body.

Allison teases both her nipples, rolling them between her thumb and finger until they were extremely sensitive. Her right hand slides down now, slipping between her parted thighs and gently brushing across her mound.

Allison can feel the slickness leaking from her already and swirls her middle finger around the edge of her entrance, coating the tip before pulling it upwards to rub against the little bundle of nerves further north.

Lydia continues to watch, murmuring gentle snippets of praise, as Allison pleasures herself for Lydia's viewing.

She watches the flush come over Allison's body, sees the way her hips arch and the hitching gasp she makes that Lydia knows so well, and she tells Allison to stop.

The dark haired girl pauses, dazed eyes looking up in confusion.

Lydia beckons her.

Allison slowly rises from the bed, shivering slightly and comes to Lydia. Lydia remains seated, and reaches for Allison's fingers, pulling them to her mouth to taste her love's essence.

Lydia licks her lips a moment, then releases Allison's hand, pulling the other woman to her, so that Allison is straddling Lydia's lap.

Lydia removes her gloves and then reaches up with her right hand and twines her fingers into the dark locks. She pulls Allison's lips down to hers and claims them fiercely.

As her tongue parts Allison's lips, Lydia presses two fingers up into Allison's hot, wet heat. She slides them in and out slowly, stretching her thumb to make a circular motion over her tiny, sensitive nub.

Lydia gradually increases the speed of her motions, continuing to dominate Allison's mouth, until the girl shudders in her lap. Allison pulls away from the kiss to bury her face in Lydia's shoulder and whispers her name softly.

“I love you forever and always, Allison.”

-

Once Chris and Stiles leave to find Derek, Lydia takes Allison overseas.

They spend the next few decades traveling abroad, only returning to demonstrate with the Suffragettes.

Neither of them remarry.

All they need is each other.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspiration: Seasons in the Sun by Terry Jacks
> 
> Please let me know if I need to tag anything else. <3
> 
>  [Tumblr](goddessofcruelty.tumblr.com)


End file.
